What Did The Thieving Frog Say? Robbit.
(For the record, because it’s out there anyway, it’s Eric Prydz’s “Call On Me.” Hillary Duff’s “Wake Up” used to be in there too, but I moved her out when I decided there’s nothing wrong with liking Hillary Duff, you snobby piece of crap.)
Losing my cards and ID and stuff is irritating and frustrating, but not the end of the world. It’s unfortunate that now I have to present the number one worst picture of me ever taken (my passport photo) as identification when I want to do as little as return a shirt at Forever 21. The only part that really bothers me is the stuff that I can’t replace that’s gone, because my wallet had become sort of a portable scrapbook without me noticing. There were photo booth pictures in there, and my favorite fortunes from cookies, and my high school ID that made me look like a big hippie. A Columbia University ID with a laughably MySpace-ready photo. Ticket stubs from the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame when I visited with my family the first time I was ever in Ohio and the play I took my mother to see for her birthday before I had to pay rent and the one movie I ever saw with this guy I had a big crush on one summer. My handmade old-man-shaped felt iPod case!
I’m not the kind of person who wears a watch every day or a necklace that I never take off. My wallet is the only thing that goes with me everywhere and having it stolen is sort of like losing the keys to my entire life. I can’t get into my bank accounts or my office or behind the wheel of a car, and I’ve even lost access to the things I liked remembering when I opened certain pockets. Fishing for a quarter and accidentally grabbing the pink movie stub, it was nice to recall that time when elbows almost rubbed.